


they stumble that run fast

by wrapper



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Cringy Flirting, First Meeting, Jazz Bar, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 10:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13716057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrapper/pseuds/wrapper
Summary: Wonwoo seriously wants to shut him up; this isn't fucking Shakespeare for god's sake, serenading from below with offers for food.In which Wonwoo tries to be upfront to Mingyu, but somehow always ends up with his mouth filled.





	they stumble that run fast

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'ed. title from a quote off romeo and juliet, because i don't have any more brain.

Fuck, if Wonwoo knows anything. He's concluded today has a vendetta against him, that it's one of those days where everything goes wrong so that you can start afresh, reset your luck capacity, begin on another day. Or something to that effect. Wonwoo has never been familiar with distorting events for the sake of optimism.

He slumps his head on the railing of the escalator, eyes darting at the Friday night scene below. The pub on the ground floor is crowded with plenty of patrons spilling out into the foyer, though for the first weekend night, there's a distinctive lack of celebratory cheer across their faces. Wonwoo's not in the mood to go see this movie either, some obscure artsy film he shelled out a good chunk of his budget for, back when he wasn't functioning on three brain cells. He figures he should at least experience it passively so that he doesn't regret it later at the end of the month when he's counting his finances.

"Don't think a frown is a good look for you."

Wonwoo straightens, trying to locate the voice. It seems a bit silly to assume the question is directed to him when there are plenty of people on this (strangely very long) escalator, but just as he's about to drop his head down out of embarrassment, the voice calls out again from somewhere below, identifying him by his wooly white jacket. Wonwoo cranes down his neck to take a good look.

The voice belongs to an impossibly long-limbed man, visible even as he's leaning back against one of the chairs outside of the pub, his two hands resting against his abdomen and a lazy smile drawn on his handsome face. Wonwoo scrunches his face in confusion. The escalator ends at that point, and Wonwoo nearly tumbles over, barely managing to steady himself had his reflexes not quickly spotted a banister to hang on to. He doesn't feel so much embarrassed as irritated that a smile like that could stupefy him. The man's laughter, bright and airy and far less mocking than Wonwoo can give, manages to hold itself out against the raucousness of the crowd, carrying itself up to the first floor where Wonwoo is peering down. Wonwoo's irritation only rises.

"You okay? Didn't mean to scare you just then," he yells, the amusement still thick in his tone,"how about you come down, and I'll treat you to a drink at least, and maybe dinner, if you're up for it? You look like you needed it there."

Is he being asked out? Just like that? Wonwoo seriously wants to shut him up; this isn't fucking Shakespeare for god's sake, serenading from below with offers for food. The quality of the man's voice wasn't the reason why Wonwoo heard his laughter so clearly, it's just that he's so fucking loud that any sound trying to compete automatically fades in comparison. People are looking at them now, but this man doesn't even give a shit, still has that stupid grin on his face. Wonwoo has no choice but to go down and wipe it off himself.

 

 

As is the recurring theme of today, that plan goes south.

(Before Wonwoo could give him a piece of his mind, the man shoves a menu in his face and pushes him towards the till.

"Tell the bartender to put it under Mingyu's tab. I'll be outside."

Wonwoo could just leave, but his stomach groans in protest.)

"Looks like I saved you from one heck of a snoozefest." Mingyu hums, fists cupping his face. Wonwoo's mouth is full of roast chicken and can't argue back so he narrows his eyes to slits, though he can't be sure how effective his glare is with his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel hoarding acorns for the winter.

"Has anyone ever told you how cute you look?" Evidently, not very effective. Wonwoo almost spits everything out. Mingyu chuckles, low and throaty, leaning closer across the table. "We've plenty of time, don't eat too much in one go. You'll choke yourself that way."

"How do you know that's not what I was planning to do?" Wonwoo blurts when he gulps down the last of his chicken. Mingyu's eyes grow comically wide, lower lip jutting out in a pout as Wonwoo snorts, laughing.

"Don't joke about stuff like that!" Mingyu whines, arms crossed. "I've lived life peacefully without having a date die on me, thanks."

 _Date?_ "This isn't a date. You forced this food on me."

Mingyu waves a hand, the lazy grin back on his face. "Glad it suits your taste." He steals a piece of chicken before Wonwoo can register his swift fingers. "Hmm a little dry. I'd give it a 3 out of 5."

Wonwoo scoffs. "Are you some kind of food connoisseur?"

Mingyu licks each of his fingers, drying them against his suit trousers. Wonwoo can't help but stare, in slight awe and disgust. "Not exactly. I like to do a bit of cooking that's all."

"I can't tell whether you're over or underplaying this."

"Maybe if you stick around, you can find out?"  
  
Wonwoo grunts, biting the inside of his cheek. He wants to blame the rapidly warming pub for the temperature rise in his cheek, but the lack of condensation on his glass of beer proves him otherwise. "We'll see."

 

 

The pub gets noisier as the time crawls towards midnight. Wonwoo mentions how hoarse his voice is from having to shout to have a conversation, so Mingyu suggests they move to a different bar for more drinks and dessert. So far, Wonwoo's only had a glass of beer, but it's enough to relax him that he agrees to the relocation.

"I wouldn't have pegged you for a jazz kind of guy." Wonwoo muses, scanning the purple neon-lit interior of Castella's, the trendy uptown jazz bar Mingyu claims to frequent.

Mingyu pulls out a wooden chair and motions for Wonwoo to sit. "What, because I said Birdman is for self-centred film snobs? Just because I don't agree with the Oscars, doesn't me I write off the entire scope of the arts."

Wonwoo shrugs. "You remind me of one of those annoying frat boys who keep the entire hall awake with club music all night."

"You're a harsh judge," Mingyu grimaces. "For the record, I am in a frat, but mostly because that's where all the big guys hang out. And you can't get anywhere in business without contacts."

"A critic and an opportunist, who would've thought?"

Mingyu's lips can barely hold his grin, the tips of his canines peeking out. "If I was anything but, would we even be here right now?"

 

 

The two margaritas and chocolate lava cake to share arrive at their table, just before the curtains on the stage open to reveal the band playing tonight. Wonwoo doesn't know what to expect, having never set foot into an establishment like this. The whole set-up feels like a dream: smoke swirls from the stage, distorting the neon lights, lending a sultry yet melancholic mood that matches the mellow opening notes of the saxophone. Wonwoo takes a few sips of his margarita, its biting sweet taste making him lightheaded; he feels like he's floating on clouds.

From the corner of his vision, he sees Mingyu's eyes light up as the band continues with an upbeat number. Unlike the previous song, the guitar takes a more central role, giving the piece a modern twist while leading it through a rhythmic rollercoaster that leaves Wonwoo breathless. Mingyu has impeccable taste, Wonwoo thinks almost begrudgingly, his stomach twisting asudden. The thought almost distracts him from the occasional sensations of a knee ghosting over his own; Wonwoo can't tell if they're intentional or simply a consequence of Mingyu swaying to the music. He finds himself scared to find out.

 

 

Three songs later, the band stops for a short interval. People around them get up to head to the bar for more drinks. Mingyu doesn't make a move to follow. Instead of facing Wonwoo at an angle as he did when they first arrived, Mingyu is now almost shoulder to shoulder with him, thighs brushing against him more times than what can be attributed to chance. Wonwoo knows Mingyu has been dragging his chair closer to him, inch by inch, just after each song ends when the applause is roaring and he thinks Wonwoo is too distracted to notice. Wonwoo wishes he was too distracted to notice.

"You're coming a little too fast, you know that?" Wonwoo hopes the quiver in his voice doesn't reveal itself. Just in case, he shoves several spoons of the cake down his throat. "First the Romeo and Juliet stunt, then the food, now cocktails at an expensive bar. How do you know I'm not just here to dry you out?"

Mingyu spits out his margarita, the alcohol flaring the tiny flame of the candle on their table. The band continues with their second setlist, but some of the audience members nearby glance at the pocketed raucousness of their little table. Wonwoo realises the double-entendre his words held too late and suddenly wishes the ground would swallow him whole. He admits they've been flirting all night, but somehow this blunder is the move that flusters him.

"You know what I mean!" He whispers furiously.

Mingyu coughs several times, his face contorting to match the various levels of asphyxiation he goes through.

"No, I don't believe I do," he manages to choke out, after a long sip of water and two waiters banging against his back. Even on his deathbed, he's still trying to get into Wonwoo's pants. The endeavour is unbelievably astounding. He's glad the bar is dark enough that Mingyu can't see the tiny smile making its way to his lips.

"Well, if I have to show you what I mean, you're not allowed to die on me either."

 

 

They don't make it to the end of the second interval. They don't even make it to Mingyu's apartment. In a hotel room just opposite to Castella's, where they had left midsong, Mingyu pulls down Wonwoo's trousers with one hand, his fingers caressing the length of Wonwoo's back while he sucks the dip between Wonwoo's neck and collarbone. Wonwoo moans at the tingling sensation that shoots down his spine, straight into his growing erection.

 "Would you say your day's turned around now, your luck capacity refreshed?"

"Don't use my words against me. Shut up and let me wipe that stupid grin off your face."

 

**Author's Note:**

> i was supposed to write for maknaeline but this happened instead. at least i'm finally writing for my self-proclaimed OTP. if i could write spicie this would've been longer. alas.
> 
> thank you for reading. <3


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